


show me (and i'll know)

by emmaslovebug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:50:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaslovebug/pseuds/emmaslovebug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Swan. / Compilation of drabbles and one-shots. / She knows how he feels. That feeling of her toes tingling and the hair rising on the back of her neck and the absolute elation when they touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: My first ever fic, so if you have any feedback, let me know! CS drabble based off the spoiler pics because my life has spiraled into nothing but fangirling about how these two feel about each other.

Sitting here with him was peaceful, truly peaceful. Having any semblance of down time before the inevitable new "big bad" was to arrive is something she'd hoped for since she returned his heart a week ago.

And so here she was, sitting next to him in the corner table at Granny's with her chair pushed as close to his as possible and one of her legs draped over his under the table while his right hand runs along her thigh, creating warmth to pool low in her belly and her heart to swell. Leaning over, she places her forehead into the crook of his neck as his hooked arm comes to wrap around her, the curve resting against the bare skin of her side, causing goose bumps to rise over the spot. She smiles goofily.

(She hasn't smiled this much in a  _long_ while.

And she knows a majority of it is because of him, always him with his goofy smiles and accent and blue eyes you could drown in and warm rough hands and  _god_ -

She won't even begin to think about the night two days ago, leaning against the door to her yellow bug hidden away down a side street, and his hips digging just right into hers, his hand running up along her side to cup her breast. Heavy breaths, hot scorching hands, teeth and lips finding that perfect spot underneath her ear that makes her legs quiver just right and  _soaking_.)

"Mmm, what's got you so happy, love?" Killian's husky voice vibrates through her, the deep rumble accented by his laughter making his shoulder jump.

Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she chuckles with mirth, "Oh, I think you know."

"I do, huh?"

"Yes, you very much do. You know how you make me feel."

His left hand rising up higher on her leg, to the hem of her shirt, his fingers rest lightly against the skin above her jeans, and he groans slightly with hooded eyes and a slight smirk, "Well, when it comes to things of that nature...I'm simply irresistible." Cheeky wink, included.

"Ugh, you know what I mean." She raps her knuckles against his chest and although she hears the slight 'oomph,' all she feels is his beating heart and never thought she'd be so happy to remember that time when Cora tried to steal her heart and her exact words were 'love is strength;' the feel of the rapid beating (from his proximity or anxiousness, she doesn't know) has tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She huddles down, sticking her smile and nervousness and just  _everything_ into the jut of his shoulder, hiding her red face from him.

Running his hand through her hair, dragging the strands around his pointer finger into a neat curl, he brings his fingers beneath her chin, lifting her face up until his lips are barely brushing hers. "Dear love, I definitely know what you mean. Listen to my heartbeat whenever you're near, and you'll know." His lips capture hers with enough force to knock her back slightly, and she gasps into his mouth. She brings her hand to the back of his neck, grasping the hair at the nape. His teeth nibble at her bottom lip, using his hand to turn her head to deepen the kiss as he sighs into her mouth. Pulling away, but staying close, he rubs his nose against hers, "Gods, love."

Biting her lip, she simply smiles and rests her forehead against his and wraps her fingers around the chains resting against his chest. She knows how he feels. That feeling of her toes tingling and her hair rising on the back of her neck and the absolute elation when they touch.

(And later that night, as he brings her back home from their fourth official date, his fingers run along the pulse points of her wrists, and he kisses the tips of each of her fingers. Her heart is in her throat, and she almost says the words, she does, but when he grasps for the back of her neck and ushers her forward to tangle his tongue with hers tenderly and then digs his fingers into her hip to bring her closer, she knows she doesn't need to say anything. He already knows.)

( _He's always known._ )


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've decided to turn this into a compilation space for all my CS drabbles and one-shots with no other place to go. This one was based off the second set of recent spoiler pictures because I'm shipper trash and I can't help but indulge you guys with my weird writing.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

She likes watching him, late at night. He’d lay on his stomach, arms stretched out overhead with his face buried in the crook of his elbow. His brow scrunched in the middle, possibly from dreams. 

He snores slightly, not that she’d ever tell him this because then he’d get self-conscious and she finds it too adorable to have it ruined. She likes him like this, all peaceful and vulnerable and  _open._ In a way, it helps her become more open as well. She’s noticed that the small things they do with each other is different than with any of her other past relationships. 

(She thinks of the small gathering at Granny’s two days ago, sitting in the corner table with Regina and her mother; she was turned towards Killian, legs crossed at the knee and her booted toe rubbing the side of his calf. He leans towards her, bringing his hook below the table to run the smooth curve along her thigh, resting it through the belt loop of her low slung skinny jeans.

She’s smiling. Smiling so much it hurts because of just the sheer  _intimacy_  of it all; the kissing, the touching, the softness of their stares.)

She realizes, laying in bed with him now, with the window open and the soft breeze flowing in, that she’s no longer scared of what’s to happen, what  _has_  happened, because she’s a new person and he’s a good man and he makes her feel things she thought she’d never feel after Neal. Things she thought she’d never feel ever again. 

Yet here she is, with  _him_ , against him, breathing him in and all she feels is her heart open to let him in and it’s so intense, there’s the instinctual feeling to run—but no, she won’t do that; can’t do that. Not to him, not to this, not to  _them._

She raises herself up on her elbow and runs her left hand over his exposed back, the sheets pooled low around his hips. Feeling the slight pull of her fingertips across his skin, he groans and sighs, twisting towards her and cracks open his eyelids and squinting at her. Lifting his good hand, he runs it over her exposed hip and grasps her waist, cracking a soft smile reserved only for her. 

"Mmm, love, c’mere." He pulls her closer to him, tangling their legs together and running his hand down her face, tapping the dent in her chin with practiced ease. Grazing her nose with his he whispers, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make me feel…like I’m wanted." Kiss her fully on the lips then, he pushes her onto her back and sinks into the cradle of her thighs. "Even just lying here with you, feeling your heartbeat against my own, it just makes me feel so…complete."

She can feel her pulse becoming rapid, her eyes becoming wide with unshed tears and she opens her mouth, her quivering mouth, “I…I, I don’t know. I just…like you. I want to make you feel special. And, definitely don’t get me wrong, you’re very much wanted.” She lifts her hips to accentuate her point, biting her lip, smirk rising up. In turn, he growls and rests his full weight on her, giving in to the pleasure of their bodies.

(She feels grateful for this, to be able to  _show_ him that she loves him. She may never feel truly comfortable saying the words, it’s just how she is, but showing,  _oh god_ , showing him is a whole other game that she can’t wait to continue playing. 

She’s all in.)


	3. 'restless and loud, unspoken and wild'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second gift for my tumblr cssv. It's of course based off 'The Words' and is in tandem with the gifset that I also made for her on my tumblr page. Just a small little ficlet from Emma's p.o.v. I hope you like it.

She never thought it'd be this easy.

This easy to fall for him; for his charm and charisma and his  _everything_. After everything she's been through in life, the things she's done, the people she thought she loved, she never though that she'd find the real thing. But here she is, wrapped up in his arms while they sit on the dock and look up at the stars. Her head is on his shoulder and his good arm is wrapped around her body, fingers grazing her hipbone as he drums out a staccato beat against her skin and humming what sounds to be a sea shanty under his breath. His hooked hand is sitting atop his lap, her fingers wrapped tightly around it to never let him go.

(She remembers when she was growing up, and stealing burritos from the local 7-11 or hot-wiring cars or feeling completely alone in the world, that there had to be something more to this world. Eventually she stopped believing because everyone and everything lets you down at some point in time, but for a brief moment before the shit hit the fan, she wanted to be taken away. Taken away by some prince charming or lost boy or white knight. At the time, it had been Neal, and then she had a chip on her shoulder and hated him and never thought she would be able to go on that big adventure.

Then  _he_ came along.

And he just happened to be  _Captain fucking Hook_.)

This time is different; she can feel it in her bones, in her magic. She no longer wants to run because he's been there for her though all of this, and it makes her feel so loved. More loved than she never thought could be possible. They've both made similar mistakes, and they both thought that they would never be able to be loved again. They were both simply scared to love again, because when life runs you over like a mack truck, you don't want to bring that burden onto other people. Having an open heart would too much, like an open wound. The baggage was just too heavy.

But with him, when they're together, the baggage doesn't seem so heavy; lighter than a feather most days. Throughout all of this, through the noise and the chaos and the changes, his love spoke the strongest.

So, here she was, wrapped up in him, with a quiet mind and a heavy heart: full of emotions and fear and excitement. 

(And she's his to choose. Always and forever.

And she realizes, with no amount of hesitation, that he's hers to choose. She's always chosen him. She will  _always_  choose him.)


	4. Open Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence of the bed scene in 4.22.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a belated birthday gift for one of my good friends Jenna over on Tumblr. Go follow captainswanismyendgame right now. She's awesome and sweet as peaches and you won't be disappointed.
> 
> Also, this is my first attempt at full on smut. Big forever thanks to BK (killians-dimples) and Jen (msgenevieve447) for helping me out in that department. I suggest heeding BK's advice and listen to Glass Animals' Gooey while reading this, it certainly helped me write it.

_She loves him_.

She truly loves him, and she wants to tell him— _oh does she want to tell him_ —but she can’t. Something about the way he’s looking at her right now, that hopeful glint in his eyes and the pursed mouth like he knows what she’s going to say. She doesn’t want to lose this. This happiness and lightness and easiness. And like she told Regina, saying it would make it real and then she’d certainly lose everything. It happened every other time she told someone she loved them, so why would this be any different.

So instead of giving into her feelings, she thanks him. _Fucking thanks him_. That makes no sense, but she’s nervous and he’s sitting underneath her all mussed hair and raised eyebrows and heat and she’s scared because she’s never felt like this before. She’s never felt this much before.

(She remembers a time when she was seven or eight and was in an ocean side foster home, one of the best she’s ever been in, and she would sit on the tire swing in the backyard and look upon the waves crashing. Or when she was young and in love with Neal, thinking that he was the greatest thing, and on the run. Being young thieves demands banding together, and she never thought life could get better, that was until she met _him_.)

While she’s gripping the lapels of his jacket and searching for something, anything to say, she feels to her toes the vibration of his small chuckle. “You know love, it’s been quite a while but you’re still an open book to me.”

Shit. “Oh yeah, and what’re you reading?”

Grazing his thumbs along the skin of her hips left bare from where her shirt rode up, leaving a fire in their wake, he stares deep into her eyes and tilts his head to the side like a lost puppy. “You’re afraid.”

Shaking her head, she threads her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Her other hand wrapping around the chains hanging from his neck, she brings her whole body forward, pressing against him from chest to hips. Leaning her forehead against his, she sucks in a shaky breath, and lightly presses her lips to his.

She feels his breath hitch and his mouth part, so she pushes harder. She nips at his bottom lip and flicks her tongue against his. She knows that he’s just going along with it, that he wants to ask, he wants to _hear the words_. Yet he keeps quiet, giving into the primal side of his pirate nature and grasping her hips harder and pulling her even closer in, her core pressing up against him most intimately and she gasps.

Pulling back slightly, she whispers, “No…no…no –“

“Yes, you are. And that’s perfectly fine; I will never pressure you to tell me anything you’re not ready for.”

“No, it’s not that I’m not ready. I just…I…,” at a loss for words, she’s stays close staring into his eyes, knowing he’s going to say the perfect thing.

“Remember, it’s you. It’s always been you, it will always be you. _You’re_ my happy ending, Swan. I will follow you to the moon and back if it meant that you realized how truly loved you are, darling.”

Tears pooling in her eyes, she stares at him completely dumbfounded. “You really mean that?”

“Why would you think any differently? I…I love you, Emma. More than anything.”

The sincerity in his eyes and in his voice has her stomach clenching and her toes curling, tears running down her cheeks. The door opens downstairs, and she hears her mom and dad depart, leaving her here with him. _Alone_. She propels forward, her lips landing on his with a fevered passion. He brings his hand to the back of her head, tilting her head to the side so he can kiss her deeper and deeper. Their mouths sliding open against one another, and she sighs into his mouth as the curve of his hook digs into the top of her thigh with a delicious kind of pain. His other hand joins, gripping high up on her other thigh, his ringed thumb curving inwards, barely grazing her center, but she feels it. And she wants _more_.

All they can hear is the panting breaths of each other, and feel every nerve ending come alive that the touch of their hands create.

Taking his bottom lip between her teeth and pulling slightly has him growling as his hand rises from its grip on her thigh to run up her back, underneath her shit. He traces the curve of her spine with the tip of his index finger, tapping lightly on hooks of her bra, making her chuckle. Pulling back she looks at him, his lips red and swollen, his eyes dark and hooded, the blue of his eyes flashing with a fire she’s nowhere near close enough to putting out.

“Come here,” he whispers gravelly, dipping his head to plant open-mouthed kisses along her neck, causing goosebumps to rise along her skin. He runs his tongue slowly up, wrapping his lips slowly around her earlobe and nipping with his teeth. She whimpers when she feels his breath so close, imagining where else she’d like to feel it.

She pulls her jacket off in a hurry and feels him start to raise up her sweater, his hand still resting against her back. She grabs the hem and lifts it over her head, her hair spilling everywhere, the ends knotted from where his fingers gathered it to make sure she was real. “Gods, Emma.” His fingers graze up the front of her stomach, dipping between her breasts before pulling down a strap only to put his lips in its place. Moving down and down, he wraps his arms tightly around her waist and flips her over, laying her down on the bed in front of him. He’s looking at her with such hunger, like she’s his last supper, that she’s already _soaking_ and she’s never gotten turned on so much by a look before that her fingers are already gripping into the cotton of the bedspread.

“You’re absolutely ravishing, darling,” he says as he dips his head to place his lips on the curve of her breasts, spilling out of the top of her bra. “Delectable,” he uses his good hand to pull the cup down, wrapping his lips around her pert nipple. The feel of his warm tongue is doing things to her insides and she wants to flip him on his back and take control but she also wants to feel _this_. He lightly bites with his teeth, making her head jerk up to find him looking up at her, his pupils blown black.

She sighs and squirms and moans, raking her fingers through his hair to hold him in place.

Bringing his ringed hand down her side, tickling the curve in her waist from his feather light touch, she feels his fingers come to the button of her jeans. He’s simply toying with it, but she knows what they both want.

“Do it, damn it,” she needs to feel him consume her, all of her.

“Tsk tsk. Patience, love, is a virtue,” he chuckles, deftly flipping open the button and undoing the zipper, slipping his hand slowly down. His cold rings are delightful against her warm skin and the feeling of them as her shivering.

“Cold?” he asks innocently, quirking his lips up at the corner, sarcasm written in his eyes.

“Oh, shut up,” she rolls her eyes then sucks in a sharp breath when she feels the slide of his fingers through her wet folds.

“You were saying?” He brings his lips further down her stomach, licking and nipping and biting the exposed skin as his finger circles lightly around the most sensitive part of her, causing her to whimper softly. He continues to play her like a violin until his lips reach where her pants lie and slipping his hand out, much to Emma’s chagrin, and starts to pull the jeans slowly down her legs, while she strips the rest of her bra off. She stops him to pull her shoes off, as well as divest him of his clothing as well. It’s not fair that she should be almost stark naked while he still has every stitch of clothing on.

Uh-uh, no, she needs to see him.

Seeing him shirtless is something she didn’t think she needed to see until now. And now, _oh yes_ , she likes what she sees. The smattering of dark hair along his chest that narrows into a trail down the rest of his stomach and into the vee of his pelvis. He is strong, but not overly muscular. Sturdy. His left arm, bent slightly to hide his brace and hook behind his back, is scarred and she understands why he hides it. But she doesn’t want him to think any part of him is ugly because nothing about him is ugly; not his body, his mind, or his capacity for love. He’s absolutely beautiful.

Grabbing his arms, she pulls him back on top of her, bending her legs so he can lie between them and kissing him deeply. Their tongues tangle, as his hand runs up the length of her thigh, pulling it up and over his hip so he can settle even deeper in the cradle of her thighs. She can feel his hardness right where she wants him, intimately pressed up against her making her purr in delight.

Bringing his hand back between them, his fingers push into her, creating a friction she can’t deny.

“Oh fuck,” she moans, rolling her hips up to meet his hands. She feels him lower himself where his head rests against her inner thigh, his scruff tickling her. Running a hand through her hair, she looks down to see him tentatively taste her, the tip of his tongue running through her folds.

He growls at the taste of her, pushing his fingers deeper and faster. He dives in, pushing his nose into her soft curls, and flicking his tongue against her bud, making her knees buckle from the intensity.

Both his fingers and his tongue are doing delicious things to her, giving her a sense of power that she’s never felt before, and she feels her magic humming in her veins. And as he increases the movement of his fingers, his tongue writing love spells on her sensitive skin, she’s getting closer and closer to the edge. So close. And closer to saying the words, those three little words.

His fingers hit that right spot within her, making her go still as her legs start shaking, she starts convulsing around his fingers, feeling herself go completely out of control. She grips his hair, keeping his tongue where she needs it, riding out the vestiges of the end of her orgasm.

“Oh my god,” she says as he rises onto his knees, hovering over here. His scruff is sparkling with her juices, and it’s never turned her on more.

“Satisfied?” He leans down to kiss her lightly on the lips, lingering there and she can smell herself on him and just _wow_.

“Not even close,” she demands, wrapping her legs around his hips and flipping them over, pushing him flat on his back.

“Mm, that’s a good girl.” He runs his hands up her arms, and plays with the ends of her hair. She situates herself over him, running her hands over his chest, holding on to his sides as she starts moving above him, letting him glide through her wetness without entering her.

His hand moves from where it was cupping her breast softly, to sit upon her hip, helping her move back and forth, _oh so slowly_. His left arm is still trying to hide, leaving it off of her completely. She grabs it and brings it towards her body.

“Whoa, darling, you don’t—“ but she stop his words when she runs it over her body, lightly over stomach and up to her nipples, the coolness contrasting sharply with her skin and causing her to become even slicker. As if that was possible.

He audibly gulps and blushes, small dots of red rising high on his cheeks. It’s adorable.

“Don’t worry, Captain. I know what I’m doing,” she leans down, pressing open mouth kisses along his neck, before rising and brining her hand down to grab his hardness. She pulls her body back to run her hand over him, her essence letting it glide over him easily. She reaches over him while she touches him to grab a condom from her nightstand, ripping it open and using both hands to pull it down over him.

Rising up on her knees, she lines him up at her entrance, and lets herself fall down on him releasing a moan and finally feeling the thickness of him after so long.

“Fucking hells, Emma,” he growls out her name through gritted teeth, basking in her beauty, high above him; she is a goddess and he is simply kneeling before her. Leaning back and putting her hands on his thighs, she starts moving, moving, moving. Slow at first, then faster and faster. She likes being above him, likes looking down at him, utterly wrecked and because of her. She almost can’t believe it.

He’s matching her, movement for movement. Every time she pushes down, and twirls her hips just so he lifts up and thrusts into her with no mercy. He’s a starving man, has been for a while, but only for her. Only for this. He’s only felt this once before, but even so, this is much different. What is between him and Emma is much lighter and easier and full of the truest love that is only spoken of in legend. He knows she hasn’t said it yet, but he knows her and how she feels. How she makes him feel.

He’s pouring all of his emotions into this moment, giving and taking, ebbing and flowing, thrust for thrust. Looking above him, at her beautiful face in the sunlight, the euphoria on her face, his heart clenches and his stomach twists.

She’s almost there, steady movements interspersed with the fast staccato rhythms of their hips brings her closer and closer. He caresses her skin, all over, before bringing his hand down to rub her clit with his thumb, finding it nestled right above where they meet.

( _Damn, does he know how to work those fingers_.)

He watches himself glide in and out of her, covered in her juices, his eyes almost rolling back in his head. She watches him, his hazy eyes watching them; she’s never seen so much love there, so much admiration, so much adoration. She can feel the familiar pull in her belly, the twisting and pulling, and her heart starts beating faster and faster.

He thrusts in one last time, circling his finger just right, and she’s coming undone. Crying out softly, her legs quaking and falling forward, her hands catching her so she’s just above him, she feels him continue to thrust into her. She knows he’s not too far behind, feeling him thrust harder and harder until he stills underneath her, catching her eyes as he comes.

They stare into each others eyes while he continues thrusting slower and slower, trying to savor every last drop of this feeling. He come sot a stop, resting beneath her with a contented smile smirk on his face and his eyes glazed over, rubbing his hands up and down her back and over her round backside. Her heart is still beating fast, but she knows that she needs to say something, anything. And after what just happened she knows exactly how she feels and she can’t hold it in any longer.

She realizes that he won’t leave her, he’s in this for the long haul, and while it still scares her, she’s willing to take that chance.

Sighing and dipping down even more into him, resting her chin on his chest, she looks up at him through her eyelashes. Grabbing his hand and holding them next to her face, she looks him straight in his questioning eyes.

“I love you, Killian,” she smiles, rubbing her nose against his collarbone, “but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Aye, love. But it’s even more lovely to hear you say it.”

Staying like this, wrapped up in him, his hook rubbing up and down her back and their hands clasped together, and staring into each others eyes, is perfect. She never wants to move, she’s finally found her home. And she’s never giving it— _them_ —up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Because we all got fucked up by that teaser._

All he could do was stare.

Stare into the oblivion in which she was taken away; no more swirling darkness and harsh winds, but suddenly again the peaceful streets of a small town at twilight.

He saw the dagger lying there, still as ever but thrumming with the energy of good and evil at war with one another. He can hear Regina wondering why she would do something like this, Snow and David rising to the defense like any good leaders, but all he feels is an emptiness in his veins and his heart slowing to a dull ache because she’s _gone_.

Gone in the blink of an eye, and she was just here. She had finally said those words he’s been waiting to hear, but she’s vanished. And gone with her are the words lying on the tip of his tongue, tangled in the gasps pulled from his throat.

_I love you_.

She had touched his hand to her heart and pressed her forehead to his, and pushed. Pushed him away, flinging the dagger into the air and being swallowed up. And he was reaching – reaching reaching reaching for anything.

He rushes forward, pushing Robin out of the way with a gruff shout, and grabs the dagger in a tight grip. He realizes this is the first time in all his years of hunting down the Dark One that he’s actually holding this powerful object and it doesn’t give him the same satisfaction that it would’ve otherwise. Instead it’s filled with sadness and regret and turmoil and he can’t let go.

He won’t let go; she needs to return to him. And he’ll stop at nothing to bring her back.

“Dark One, with this dagger I command thee. Return!” Come back, come back, come back – it’s all he can mutter. Come back.

( _I love you, too_.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Could you write me CS + baking idk something something at a ridiculous time like 3am?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is from [Lana](http://potentialheartofdarkness.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.  
> \---  
>  _you know i can't say no to sexy cs baking time._

She’s been lying wide awake for the better part of an hour now, tossing and turning, hoping the the hunger will subside. She even curls up into his side, her head resting on his chest, feeling the downy hair tickle the side of her nose. But no. Nothing can change the fact that it’s almost three o’clock in the _fucking_ morning and she’s starving and craving something ridiculously sweet.

What the baby wants, the baby gets.

Groaning has she pushes herself up on her palms, she feels Killian stir beside her. She feels the tips of his fingers start to play with her hair, tracing the curls at the ends, “What is it love? Everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah. Just hungry. Seriously, these cravings need to stop already,” she sighs exasperatedly. Standing up and rapidly pulling on one of his long sleeve shirts and small shorts, she starts to head down the stairs. Thankfully her parents got their own place in the past year, allowing her to actually have past midnight excursions to the bathroom without worrying about waking her parents. Well, that and… _other_ things. And with Henry staying at Regina’s tonight, hurrah for not having to keep quiet anymore, she things slyly to herself.

“Swan, hang on a moment,” she turns around at the bottom of the loft stairs to see him wearing nothing but sweats swung low on his hips, the oh so sexy trail of hair that got her into this little predicament to begin with disappearing beneath the hem, making her think about denying herself of sweets for something more… _substantial_.

Making her way into the kitchen, she pulls the baking sheet out from under the oven and pulls out a pack of pre-packaged chocolate chip cookies. Her favourite. Turning the pre-heat on, she feels him come up behind her as she opens the package and starts tearing them apart to put on the sheet. He wraps his arms around her and sets his chin atop her shoulder. “Come on, I can go out and get something. Don’t worry about that, darling.”

“It’s 3 am in Storybrooke, Killian, nothing’s open to get anything. Plus, I’m craving something sweet and full of chocolate.” Looking back over her shoulder, she flutters her eyelashes and juts her lower lip out in a pout, “Join me?”

“Mmm, you know I can’t say no to you,” he speaks with a sultry voice, licking his lower lip and pushing his hips into her, making her slightly rounded belly rest against the handle of the oven. She groans, trying to focus on her task as he moves her hair over one shoulder to place open mouth kisses along the length of her neck. All she feels is the heat from his mouth and his body and his words – but she really wants these cookies. She pushes back against him, knocking him off of her in surprise.

“Well, then don’t just stand there, help me.” He looks so put out, his mouth open in a wide circle, eyes sparkling mirthfully. She giggles, tearing off a piece of cookie dough and popping it into his mouth before he has a chance to say anything.

He stands there, aghast, slowly chewing at the uncooked dough with a horrified look on his face. He spits it out quickly into his hand, throwing a nasty ‘yuck’ in for good measure. “What are you trying to do, Swan, kill me?”

He throws the chewed food in the garbage with another shudder, before jumping on the counter and swinging his legs, watching her work.

She laughs loudly, shaking her head at his antics. _He’s such a child_. The oven beeps that it’s ready to use. She puts the tray in the middle, careful not to burn her fingers on the grill, before setting the timer for 15 minutes.

She comes to stand between his legs, wrapping her arms around his neck and his goes to her hips, his ringed hand playing with the hem of his shirt, raising it up to rub her skin. He’s warm.

“Hmm, so what now, love?”

“Now. We wait.”

\---

(He complained for a good five minutes while they were cooking:

“Why are they taking so long, Swan?”

“You have magic, why don’t you just poof some to us?”

“What is the point of this, we could be indulging in much more enjoyable activities rather than wait for these doughy monstrosities to rise.”

He winked on the last one, looking as salacious as ever, prompting her to smack his arm while berating “they’ll be done soon enough, stop complaining” and “oh trust me, you’ll like them, _a lot_.”

She winked back.)

\---

She explains to him the concept of cravings - how it’s supposedly because the mother is lacking in nutrients and so they’ll crave certain things that have them, but she believes it’s just an excuse pregnant woman tell themselves so they can eat whatever they want and not feel bad about it.

“Oh really?” He said, looking up through his eyelashes. They had switched places, he had lifted her up on the counter, wrapping her legs lightly around his hips. He pulled her to the edge of the counter, settling in the vee of her thighs.

“And what do you want right now?” He brings his lips to the corner of her mouth, planting a kiss. He keeps moving along her jaw, his tongue slipping out to taste her.

He brings his hand back to the hem of her shirt, bringing it up to rest his fingers lightly against the swell of her stomach. He bends down to press a kiss above her belly button, before laying kisses along her skin up and up, over the fabric covering her breasts and nuzzles his nose lightly against her collarbone.

“Hmm, you really want to know what I want?” She rests her fingers against his neck, bringing his face up to hers. Her lips hover over his, and he nods, his nose rubbing lightly against hers, whispering an absolutely _shuddering_ ‘aye’, creating goosebumps along her arms.

Leaning into kiss him squarely on the lips, she brings him closer and closer, until with one dip of their heads they’d be lost in each other.

“I want-” She breathes against his lips, his lips lifting up with satisfaction. She hears the beeping of the oven in the background.

“Yeah?” He practically _moans_ the word.

“-cookies.” She smirks, pushing him back to jump down and duck under his arm, giggling as she back towards the beeping stove. He darts towards her, both of them sliding in their socks, before catching themselves against the counter top.

She bends to get the cookies out, all the while rubbing back against him. He mutters and growls and he sounds utterly _gone_. With a ‘bloody minx’ on his tongue she bursts out laughing.

\---

She shows him how precisely you rip the cookies apart, leaving a slow dripping trail of melting chocolate behind, her tongue dipping forward to catch it all for it falls to the floor. His eyes darken considerably, which is saying a lot with how much she’s been teasing him for the past twenty minutes. She chucks the separate pieces into her mouth, happily chewing, pretending not to notice the way his tongue dips out to swipe at the corner of his.

She breaks another cookie apart, swiping her finger through the tangle of cocoa, and brings it to his lips, watching with rapt fascination as his eyes widen and his tongue wraps around the tip of her finger, dragging his mouth slowly up the digit. She pulls away slowly, but he’s faster, and he nips lightly with his teeth.

She shivers deeply. _Screw this_ , she thinks, dragging him off the counter and pushing him toward the stairs, almost tripping over his own feet with a toothy grin on his face.

“Oh, just keep laughing buddy.” She grabs the plate of cookies off the counter, pushing past him with and indignant air, her chin held high. He growls again, the deep rumble sounding like surround system in the small apartment, as he chases her up the stairs into their bedroom, the door banging loudly behind them.

\---

(She shows him exactly what the chocolate is good for.)


	7. string me up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She never used to celebrate Christmas like the other kids. So, in a way, you can say she's making up for lost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** A baby bit based on the prompt: "person a seduces person b into taking a few steps back/backing them against a wall ['oh look, how did that mistletoe get right there?']". A little fluff for all your holiday-ing needs.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing regarding this show, especially Killian Jones' chest hair. I do, however, own my right to hate eggnog.

Being a Dark One had been good for two things: scaring the living shit out of people and also being able to acquire such a huge house.

Said house that is now being used to hang every kind of ornament and decoration imaginable.

Emma never used to celebrate Christmas like the other kids; in the group homes, they usually had dinners around a rickety fold out table – the meals consisting of stale and hard-as-a-rock bread and some gross cold cuts that they had on sale at the local grocery store – and in foster situations, she never felt like she belonged with any of the families to truly celebrate what is surprisingly her favourite time of year.

So, in a way, you can say she’s making up for lost time.

(It also helps that Killian also likes celebrating. Even though she heard him say it was because he liked the way her face lit up at the sound of Christmas music or the way her cheeks were reddened by the cold.)

Her parents, Henry, and Regina had all come over to help her and Killian – using her and Regina’s magic to place a 9-foot tall tree in the bay window of the living room, leaving space to still look out on the beautiful horizon. They had placed ornament upon ornament on the tree – orbs and crystals and even some special ones – a hook for him and a swan for her. Tinsel had been thrown around and a star placed on top – her sitting astride Killian’s shoulders to get a better reach for it.

They drank eggnog – which she hated but partook in for nostalgia’s sake – and hung icicle lights and watched The Year Without a Santa Claus. Needless to say, Killian was a bit freaked out by that one, he’s still not used to the concept of what television actually is and it didn’t help that Heat Miser is particularly creepy. She used to have nightmares when she was a child.

Yet here she was, finally with her family. After 29 long years, she finally got to celebrate the holidays with her entire family.

She couldn’t be happier.

-/-

“Do you want the last bit of the eggnog, Killian?” She picks up the pitcher on the kitchen counter, getting ready to pour.

She can hear him shudder. “Ugh, no. It’s atrocious.” She pours the rest in a small tumblr, gulping it down fast so as not to taste it. She really should just say ‘f-you nostalgia’ because most of the time, she can’t even stand the stuff. “What even in the blazes is that supposed to be?”

Placing the empty glass in the sink, she heads back to the living room, where Killian is putting up the last of the ornaments with an adorable confused look on his face. Everyone else had left about an hour ago, leaving them all alone.

“It’s a special holiday drink. Something dairy, like milk or cream, mixed with eggs and alcohol.” Wrapping a hook around a small ornament with a snowman on it, she places it on the closest limb. “Usually rum,” she says, giving him a side eye with a smirk.

He simply scoffs, setting aside the box they had been working from on a nearby chair. “Aye, and it’s a bloody waste of it. I’ll never drink that again.”

She laughs, rising up on her toes to fix a light strand that has gotten tangled. “Sounds good. It kind of sucks anyway.”

She steps back into his arms, admiring their handiwork. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers in her ear, his arms wrapped lightly around her waist and chin resting on her shoulder. “Very interesting celebration, I’ll admit, and it kind of hurts my eyes to look at too long, but it’s definitely gorgeous.” His lips graze her earlobe, and she can feel a slight smile starting to form. “Much like you.”

She elbows his tummy gently, a giggle bubbling out of her throat. “Oh shush.”

She doesn’t think she’ll ever be used to the way he caresses her with his words; the soft dip in the middle when he tells her that she’s ravishing or the way his mouth rounds around an innuendo that has her blushing from head to toe.

(And it takes a lot to make her blush.)

She reluctantly removes herself from his arms, going to grab the last of the boxes to put up some garland around the fireplace. She feels him follow her though, feels the heat from him on her back like an abyss she can’t wait to fall into.

Turning around, her eyes rest neatly on his lips, their height difference always being a bit of an allure for her. Her needing to stand on her toes to whisper in his ear or tuck her face in his neck makes her giddy with a youthful glow she hasn’t had in a while. He steps even closer, bringing his face down to meet hers.

“You know, we could always just leave rest of the decorating for another day.”  His smile is slight, but his eyes are sparking with mischief. She sees a sliver of teeth, resting on his bottom lip enticingly. _Oh, he’s good_. “I mean, you didn’t get this enormous house for no reason. And with Henry gone,” he grasps her hand, threading his fingers through hers, “well, then we can definitely take our time.”

She lets out a laugh through her nose. “Oh, yeah?” She coyly asks, looking down at their joined hands. “And what do you suggest we do with our time?” Anticipation builds, coiling in her lower belly, waiting to be unraveled.

“Well,” he starts, bringing the edge of his hook to her hips, the blunt edge digging into her skin, “we could watch that Netty-flix that you always talk about,” his head in her neck, “or go to the dock,” kiss, “or to that lovely tavern,” nip, “or you know,” husky voice vibrating along her skin, “get up to more enjoyable activities.” Suck.

She lets go, turning her head, eyes closed to the feel of his tongue running along the column of her throat as he slowly starts walking her backwards. Untangling his hand from hers, he reaches up, flicking his fingers under the flap of her jacket and pushing it off her shoulders. It lands in a heap on the floor and his hand makes its way up, getting lost in her hair. Their feet trip over it as he keeps moving her backwards, his lips making their way across her jaw where his teeth finally nip at the dimple on her chin.

Breathe in, breathe out.

She lets out an ‘oof’ when her lower back hits the window sill. She cocks a hip to rest on it while he brings his hand and hook down to her thighs, hoisting her up. Sitting precariously on the edge, she wraps both legs lazily around his hips. Her body is turning to jelly and her mind to mush.

And she needs to stop thinking and just feel, feel, feel.

She grabs the back of his neck, pulling him forward with a growl; a warning to get him to stop teasing. Their lips meet and a moan tears from the back of her throat. Her hands bring him even further into the vee of her thighs, her core pressing intimately against him. He grinds against her lightly, a whimper on his lips, as his teeth graze her bottom lip roughly.

She smiles into the kiss, a breathy wisp of air flowing in between them. “Oh, you mean _those_ kinds of enjoyable activities.”

His hook drags down the center of her back, making her arch against him while she shivers deliciously. His head dips down to her neck again, sucking on her pulse and drawing a line up to her ear with the tip of his tongue. With a gravely voice, he whispers, “Of course,” he chuckles, “whatever else would I mean?” His lips caress her ear, pulling it slightly under the weight.

Her eyes roll back and her head follows the movement to rest against the window, letting him continue his ministrations. His head dips further and further down, his fingers deftly opening the cardigan to the last two buttons. He pulls the undershirt down with one hand, her breasts coming into view and his lips and tongue wrapping around a pert nipple. Her eyes shoot open and goosebumps rise along the skin of her arms…and that’s when she sees it.

Grasping his hair in one hand, she pulls his head off her breast, his teeth roughly grazing her creating a delicious ache. “Uhm…what’s that?” Her index finger is between them, pointing up, and his eyes follow the movement.  

His eyes crinkling in the corner give him away instantly. “Oh! Look…how did that mistletoe get right there?” His attempt to be innocent is laughable, her whole body shaking from silent chuckles.

Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she sits up straighter, fixing her shit to cover herself modestly again. “Who even told you what mistletoe means?”

He looks put out. “Hey, we have similar traditions back in the Enchanted Forest; I could’ve easily used mistletoe on…well, on…” Her eyebrows rise high on her forehead, staring at him indignantly with a smirk on her face. He sighs, shoulders slumping. “Regina…and, well…your mother.” He grimaces. She shakes her head, still laughing. She doesn’t want to know what that talk was like.

She rests a palm on his chest. “You poor thing.” Her eyes are wide and her lips are pouting, but her hand starts to run down the front of his jacket. She pulls him forward, their noses bumping. Her eyes flicker over his face; lips, eyes, lips, eyes. _Damn._ “I mean, it didn’t go completely to waste.” She’s being coy and she’s loving it. And the way his eyes darken, becoming hooded and the pupils dilated, she can tell he’s loving it, too.

Jumping down off the window, she slides against him, threading her fingers through his and pulling him towards the stairs.

Their lips reconnect as they make their way up to their room. _Their_ room. She’ll never get used to it.

But for the time being, might as well finish what he started.

-/-

(And when she opens the door to see hundreds of the pesky plants lining the ceiling of the bedroom, she can’t help pushing him down on the bed, giggling as she falls with him.

Cheeky bastard.)


End file.
